Pavement and Resolve
by gnbrules
Summary: He decided to walk home that night, and this one decision may have changed the course of his life forever. Starring teenage Carlton Lassiter, because everyone is curious, or should be, about his life before the badge. Rated T for some mild violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Pavement and Resolve**

**Summary: **** He decided to walk home that night, and this one decision may have changed the course of his life forever. Starring teenage Carlton Lassiter, because everyone is curious, or should be, about his life before the badge. Whumpage.**

**A/N: So let's call this a compromise....this is not entirely the original story I had promised back in my author's note in Nobody Needs To Know (and referred to in Lassie Secret #1). I still wasn't happy with some parts (not character-specific enough, too general description/dialogue)...so I fixed it. Now I like it better, and you guys can still read it. :)  
**

That day, fifteen year old Carlton Lassiter stayed at his friend's house until long after the sun had set. They had been working on a project for English class together, one they had both put off until the very weekend before its due date. When they were finally finished putting together their presentation, Jacob looked over at Carlton while reaching for his keys. "You wanna ride home?" he asked.

Carlton shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll just walk."

Jacob put down his keys, looking slightly disappointed not to have an opportunity -- or an excuse -- to take his recently-bought car out for a spin. Carlton waved off the feeling of guilt with his own logic. He liked to walk, liked the nighttime, and plus, his house wasn't even that far away.

So he said goodbye to Jacob and began to walk home, taking all his usual shortcuts through alleyways and backyards.

Carlton didn't see the two older boys catch sight of him from across the street. He didn't see the way their eyes lit up at the sight of his new jacket, which had been a birthday present from his mother. She had saved for three months to buy it for him, always putting away any spare dollars that were left after bills and groceries.

He didn't hear them follow him into that particularly dark alleyway, the one that, in retrospect, he probably shouldn't have been walking through in the first place.

And then he did hear them, with their menacing whispers to each other, their heavy footsteps. And he was afraid but trying not to show it, so he didn't run. He just walked fast.

It wasn't enough, and his eyes didn't see them. He bumped into something solid, _someone_, and his eyes adjusted to the low light.

The guy had to be at least nineteen, judging by his scruff and stature. He was heavy and grinning. "Hey, kid. Nice jacket."

And then one was behind him, one was in front, and there was nowhere to run.

The fist came suddenly, unexpectedly, harshly.

It struck him in the eye, and Carlton saw shiny popping stars and nothing else. His head snapped back with the force of the punch, and he flailed to keep his balance. He raised his hands to fight back, but he couldn't really see... and he knew he didn't stand a chance. They were older, bigger, tougher. Ruthless.

One of them laughed as he punched Carlton in the lip, which busted and bled. The other grabbed his jacket and managed to pull it off of him. Another punch to the stomach, as if for good measure, and then Carlton tripped backwards and fell to the hard pavement.

"See if he has any cash..."

And then there was a hand rifling through the pocket of his jeans, and Carlton thought of the money stored there, which was a birthday gift from his father, a consolation for never being around...

"Hey," Carlton tried to protest, but the other guy got in his face, eyes dark and furious. The kid, man, or whatever he was, had freckles on his nose and bushy eyebrows. Eyes glaring with no pity, remorse, or fear.

And then the money was gone from his pocket and the fist struck _again, _leaving an explosion of pain is his temple. His vision dimmed and Carlton laid back on the ground, hoping they'd just leave if he didn't move. If he just played dead...

A parting kick to the ribs, and then, finally, they left.

He heard them walk away and laugh, heard their last bit of arguing over who should get the jacket and who should get the money. _His_ money and _his_ jacket...

He would never be sure how long he laid there on cold pavement, how long he replayed the senseless attack in his head. He loved his jacket, but he wouldn't have fought for it...not knowing they would do this to him. But they didn't even give him the chance to offer it up...

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, Carlton forced himself to his feet. He swayed slightly and wondered if this was what it felt like to have a concussion. He leaned against a building wall to steady himself. He wiped his mouth on his arm and he could see the blood smeared against his skin. He was never usually the queasy type, and the sight of blood alone wouldn't have been enough to do it under normal circumstances, but this entire situation made him sick. His throbbing head and the violence, the thought of his swollen eye, the painful aches of his body.

It put him on his knees and he gave in to the nausea.

He was disgusted with himself. For being so weak, so helpless. For letting them do this to him.

Carlton pushed himself to his feet again. He wiped his mouth resolutely, almost angrily. He took a few shaky, stumbling steps forward, but they were steps none the less.

As he walked home, holding his painful side and occasionally wiping at his lip, he made sure to stay beneath the brightness of the streetlights. The other alleyways he might have once used as shortcuts now seemed to be the most dangerous places in the world.

**A/N: Young Carlton is intriguing to me...reviews greatly appreciated, as always. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Pavement and Resolve, Chapter Two**

**A/N: Decided that these are short enough to post two in one day...if not the whole thing...  
**

His mother's reaction was nothing more or less than Carlton had anticipated.

When he first walked in, she had been about to tell him off for being late, but then she caught sight of his injuries and reacted with an appropriate level of motherly horror. "Oh my God, what happened, Carlton?" she said, hurrying towards him. She cupped his face in her hand lightly, the concern and fear obvious in her eyes.

Carlton tried to push past her to the bathroom. "It's nothing..."

"Carlton, don't try to pull that with me. What happened to you?"

"Mugged." he replied dully, not meeting her eyes.

"Oh my God, Carlton...let's get you cleaned up. And then we're going to call the cops and get the person who did this to you."

"There were two of them..." Carlton corrected automatically.

"Oh my...oh..." she clutched her chest dramatically, and on the whole, Carlton thought she was taking it quite well.

His mother forced him into the bathroom, and from then on, it was complete care-taker mode. She cleaned his face up and gave him a clean new shirt to change into, and to Carlton's relief, she didn't make a fuss about the bruises on his side and stomach.

When she left to get him something cold to help the swelling on his eye, he took his first opportunity to look at himself in the bathroom mirror.

His right eye was bruised and puffy, and his lip was swollen. There was also a dark bruise on his temple. It was pretty much what was to be expected; he looked like a teenage kid who'd been beaten to a pulp.

Carlton brought a tentative hand to his lip, then touched his eye. He flinched not only at the pain, but at his reflection. He looked broken and lost and weak. So terribly pathetic...

His mother returned with a bag of frozen peas. She handed it to him, and he took it and placed it on his eye, feeling ridiculous. "Thanks, Mom." he said gruffly.

"Honey, I called the police to report this. They're sending a couple of officers over to interview you. Is that okay?"

"I...yeah. That's fine." he replied.

He didn't really want to retell the story to two people he didn't know, but there seemed to be no way around it. And anyway, maybe, hopefully, they could actually find the jerks that had stolen his jacket.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three **

The policemen showed up about ten minutes later. One was pretty young, probably a rookie, by Carlton's rough guess. The other was slightly older, and they both seemed friendly enough.

Carlton's mother offered them drinks and shunted them into the living room. They accepted glasses of water and sat themselves down on the couch in the living room, across from a very awkward-feeling Carlton.

"Hey, Carlton." said one of them. "My name is Officer Michaels, and this is my partner, Officer Harris."

"Hi." said Carlton nervously, feeling strangely as if he was a criminal instead of a victim.

Officer Michaels, who was the older of the two, smiled encouragingly. "So, your mom said you were mugged." The policeman's eyes flashed for a second to Carlton's bruised temple, then back to his eyes. "We need you to tell us everything that happened. Can you do that for us?"

Carlton bristled slightly at being addressed like such a young child, and the officer, ever-alert, happened to notice. He grinned slightly at Carlton. "Take it easy, kid. I've got a son quite a bit younger than you. Sometimes I forget there's a huge difference between fifteen and ten."

Carlton didn't know exactly how to reply to that, so he didn't.

Officer Michaels leaned in slightly. "Tell us everything, from the beginning. I want to know all of it, because the more we know, the more likely it is that we can catch these guys."

Carlton nodded. "I was walking home from my friend's house. I took a short cut through an alley on...Willow Street, I think. And that's when they...one was behind me and the other was in front. One of them punched me in the eye, then in my lip. The other one ripped off my jacket, and then I was punched in the stomach." he said, rattling off the story dryly. He hated that he couldn't put some heroic spin on it, something that sounded a little less pathetic than this. "I tripped and they stole money from my pocket and kicked me in the ribs...and that was it. They left me there and I waited til they were gone to walk home."

Officer Michaels grimaced as the other guy took notes. "Did you see what they looked like at any point?"

"Just one of them. He was ugly." said Carlton without thinking, and Michaels let out a bark of laughter.

Carlton smiled. "Sorry. Just the first thing that came to mind."

"And I'm sure it's true." smirked Michaels. "Go on, kid."

"He had reddish-brown hair. Auburn, right? It was curly and long enough to fall into his face. His nose was big, round. He had freckles, bushy eyebrows, and brown eyes. He was a lot heavier than me, and a little bit taller. Like, by one or two inches."

"You sure about all this?" asked Harris as he scribbled down notes.

"Yes. I'm sure."

Officer Michaels smiled. "I gotta tell you, son, that's one of the best descriptions we've ever gotten from a civilian. You've really got an eye for things. Ever consider being a detective?"

Carlton shrugged. "I've considered it."

"I think it's exactly your type of work..." said Michaels, winking. "You've given us everything we need so far."

The two officers stood and were about to leave. Carlton and his mother walked them to the door and just as they were stepping outside, Carlton called them back. "Hey, officers?"

They turned expectantly.

"If you get them," started Carlton uncertainly. "Do you think you could get my jacket back for me?" He felt childish asking the question, worrying about his jacket when the cops certainly had more important things to think of, but he couldn't help himself.

Officer Michaels nodded seriously. "We'll see what we can do."

"Thanks."

That night, it took Carlton a frustratingly long time to fall asleep. His body ached and the memories of the attack haunted him. He had felt so helpless, so at the mercy of those jerks, that even now he felt completely defenseless.

The two officers had seemed so certain of themselves and their work. Determined, strong. There was no way that something like this could ever happen to them. Officer Michaels had said that he could be a good detective...

And it wasn't like Carlton hadn't considered police work before...

_It does seem like something I would like, _thought Carlton . _I might be really good at it._ He smiled into his pillow, and after a few long minutes of clinging to this thought, Carlton was finally overcome with sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

One week later, Carlton was called down to the police station to pick a suspect out of a line-up.

Officer Michaels was there to greet him and explain the procedure. He lead Carlton down the halls of the police station and into a room.

"See that?" asked Officer Michaels, pointing to the huge glass window in front of them. "That's one-way glass. You can see them, they can't see you."

"I know how one-way glass works."

"Great. Now, your job is to pick out the guy that --"

"I know."

Officer Michaels nodded. Carlton walked closer to the glass so that he could actually see the line of people in the other room. He stared at each face, one by one. Just about all of them looked similar. Same hair color and eyes.

But Carlton found the right one almost immediately. The young man from his memories with the dark eyes. The bulbous and freckled nose. Curly auburn hair. He looked a lot less menacing away from the dark alley. In fact, he looked a little clown-like in the current lighting. "That's him. Number six."

"You sure?"

Carlton didn't even hesitate. "I'm sure."

Officer Michaels clapped a supportive hand on Carlton's shoulder. "Then we'll do the work from here. You've done a great job, Carlton. I bet you'll set records once you're on the Force."

Carlton smirked at the thought.

* * *

A few days later, Carlton was lying on the patio furniture on his front porch, reading a novel. He liked reading outside, because it was warm and sunny, and he liked the fresh air. He looked up from his book when he heard the front gate squeak open, and was surprised to see Officer Michaels coming toward him with an ear-to-ear grin. He was holding Carlton's jacket in his hands.

Carlton sat up quickly.

"Hey, kid."

"Hi." said Carlton. "Is that my-"

"Sure is." replied the officer, happily handing it over to Carlton, who took it. "The money is in the pocket, too."

"Thanks."

Officer Michaels put his hands in pockets. "No problem. And hey, guess what? Douglas confessed right after you picked him out. Ratted out his buddy, too. They're both legal adults so...well, let's just say it won't be looking good for them. Especially if they get a judge that wants to throw The Book at them."

Carlton nodded, not entirely sure how he felt about the news. "Hey, sir? Can I ask you something?"

"Well, you just did. But you can ask me something else too, if you'd like."

"Is it normal for cops to deliver jackets back to their owners?"

Officer Michaels shook his head. "Nah. Usually we'd just call you to pick it up. But sometimes us cops need a little more of a conclusion than that. Plus it's nice to actually, physically, give something back."

"Oh."

"You'll understand someday. Given anymore thought to being a detective?"

"Well, yeah. But I still have a couple years to decide, right?"

Officer Michaels laughed. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need, Carlton. See ya, kid. Hopefully on the Force in a few years." he added with a wink.

"Bye." said Carlton, and he watched as the policeman crossed his front yard and went back through his gate.

As Carlton watched the officer's vehicle pull away from the curb, he couldn't help but think about his own future. He still had years to make any real decision, and yet something was already growing inside of him.

A sort of certainty.

He wanted to help people and fix things that were wrong. Or at least make them more fair. He wanted to be the detective that dug just a little deeper, the cop with the ever-watchful eye, the officer that brought the jacket back.

It would be dangerous, he knew, but it would make him just that much stronger, and it would be worth it.

_This is something I can do, _thought Carlton, suddenly determined. _I'm really going to do it someday..._

**A/N: Finished an essay with time to spare, and decided to reward myself by posting this early...by about sixteen hours. Ha. Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed. :)** **And I'm done with teenage Lassie for now, but not even close to done with Lassiter in general, so if you're interested, keep an eye out. **_  
_


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